The bitter taste of righteous blood
Stains the oaken lips
Spurs the vernal bones
Of primal guardians in service of the savage one
The gruesome hunt-horn drones
Hail! huntsman!
The forest rides tonight!
Hail! huntsman!
Rid us of this blight!
Over archaic laughs of sport
The captives plead and wail
Some are dragged underground
To be devoured at the horrid feasts of nameless gods
To be scraps for drathna's hounds
Hail! huntsman!
The forest rides tonight!
Hail! huntsman!
Rid us of this blight!
And lo! through the brush there came a sight terrible to behold
The stag god, accompanied by his spidery host
He who is brother to the mountains
Warden of the untamed
And butcher of the fearful
They marched across the iron jaw with sword and helm
Seeking fabled woodland doorways to the twilight realms
The proudest of their captains are now hunted like boars
Their banners lie in gory pools upon the forest floor